Dark Knight Reborn
by Shenlong7
Summary: Following the death of Batman, Jason inherits the cowl instead of Dick. Can he maintain order in Gotham or has this decision split the Bat Family into civil war? Will Jason lose control? Rated T for violence and language. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue part 1

Disclaimer: I own two things, Jack and shit…and Terry…and Zoot. So like four things, but Batman is owned by DC Comics. This an elseworlds or alternate universe in which Jason is given the cowl instead of Dick.

* * *

><p><strong>Gotham October 24, 2008<strong>

It always grips him right before he goes outside, climbing through the fire escape so he isn't seen leaving the rundown apartment building. The only reason it has running water is because someone forgot to bulldoze it down and Jason made sure that the water never got shut off in there. The electricity was only turned on when it needed to less someone randomly discover that an apartment complex that was supposed to be closed was still getting power and in only one apartment room. He wouldn't put it past Bruce to notice that detail. He reaches into his pocket to pull out something to ease the grip that's taken hold of him. Nicotine. Jason Todd, former Robin, former member of the dead, smoker. As far as Jason knew he was the only Robin that smoked, hell he was the only one in that family who ever did. Bruce was uptight about everything, Dick was Mr. Clean and Tim was a freackin' zombie following in their footsteps.

Even though his red helmet would probably attract unwanted attention from the family he was avoiding he would have to wear it because he didn't feel right walking around in civilian garb. It exposed him too much and he had taken his laundry to the dry cleaners as Red Hood, it wouldn't be proper to fudge up his secret identity even if he couldn't give a damn who knew he was Jason Todd. He doesn't want to admit that he does it partly because he didn't want anyone using that to figure out the identities of the others. Jason Todd doesn't want to admit that he still gives a damn about what happens to the family he's running away from, even if he's thought about killing some of them. Not serious thoughts, more of impulsive rage that tears through him with such a fury that it severs nerves in the tissue.

Gangbangers all line the street, waiting for a moment's weakness like vultures, but only the really stupid ones, like Gigante, one of the leftovers of when Bane ran Gotham. Even without Bane to watch his sorry ass he had somehow managed to live as long as he did, but he was getting too bold and Jason knew that Red Hood was going to have to feed the dogs he had. They were getting hungry and Gigante was a fat man, a fat little shit that barked louder than he could bite. He'd get fed his teeth soon enough. Jason took another intake of smoke, the nicotine rushing through him to wake him up, after all the night was still young and he had things he had to do. First thing was pick up dry cleaning and drop it off at one of the expendable safe houses, not the apartment he'd just left…that place was the safe house of safe houses, the one no one would go to. The one he'd never shown Bruce, the apartment he lived in with his mother, Catherine Todd, his real mother.

The dry cleaners has the same crappy lighting it had when it first opened up fifty years ago, around the time when black people were starting to realize they had taken enough shit. It was one of the first proudly black owned dry cleaners. Now it was owned by a balding Indian guy who smelled like he never showered. Sometimes change isn't for the best, but Jason didn't know all the facts. If a deeply disturbed individual like himself could solve the world's problems than the world was more screwed than he had thought…but then again.

"You're order was ready five days ago, we called," scolded the owners wife, a stern woman who Jason could tell was gonna get killed one of these days, but not by him…she was an innocent after all. Or as innocent as anyone can be in these parts. "I find that very unprofessional!"

"I find your sweatiness unprofessional," he replied as he picked up his laundry and left a 50 dollar bill on the table. "This place is rather cold, how do you remain sweaty and yet your husband seems to be quite cold. Anything to do with the illegal immigrant you have working for you two in the back? Don't be surprised, I know lots of things and I can do a lot of things, so be grateful that I'm not the type of man to take advantage of that or would you rather have to deal with people who expect you to pay for cleaning their laundry."

Protection rackets weren't Jason's style, neither was bank robbery. The only way he could think of making money that wouldn't give him a queasy feeling in his stomach was taken it from drug dealers. He had never liked them, especially the ones who deal to little kids and he could do anything he wanted to them and not feel bad about it. This came from growing up as a kid and having to see his mother destroy herself as those pushers pushed their filth into her veins taking everything from her, even her body while her son sat in the other room, pretending he couldn't hear what they were doing to her. Best and worst thing Jason had going for him was his memory. He could remember every single drug dealer who had forcefully pushed the needle in her vein even when she said no and he could remember each one that threw on her the floor to have his way with her. Those memories finally came in handy when he could track him down and kill them; all of them.

He turned his head down the street towards the old man with hot dog cart, the same one that had been there in his time with the same old man and the same punks harassing the vendor. The only thing that had changed was that Jason could do something about it and he wasn't about to let an opportunity like this slip by him, not when so many other opportunities had slipped through his fingers, things that he had regretted in the twilight before sleep finally took him. There never seemed to be an end to these dead men, men who ran throughout their life shouting kill me and someone was always ready to oblige them.

"Looks like someone forgot the rules of this part of the city," said Red hood as he slipped his hand into his coat and felt the familiar handles of his toys. "I said that the innocent were off limits in my territory, but apparently you're either deaf or retarded…probably both."

"Well if it isn't the Red Hood," said the leader of the punks, a large Italian teen, probably just turned 19 at the most with slicked back black hair, almost like a stereotypical thug. I knew the tattoos on his arms, one of Gigante's men. Fat piece of monkey crap was about to get his lodged in his toilet and things didn't look good for Jason letting him out in time. "The boss wanted to meet you tonight, said he had some big plans he wanted to discuss with ya, ya know just talk to ya."

"Tell me something, were you to escort me there," asked Jason his tone having the slightest hint of inquiry, not giving too much emotion to be easily read, just like Bruce.

"Naw, he didn't tell us nothin' else, just that we should be on our way," replied the thug as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarette and fished his hands around in his pants as if he was looking for his lighter. Finding nothing the thug made the most bold and stupid move of the evening, he tapped the Red Hood on his shoulder. "You must got a lighter on ya, give it here."

"You touch me again and you won't get that hand back," warned Red Hood as he tightened his grip on the Kris that he kept with him at all times.

"Oh, look at mister scary, come on just give me ya lighter" said the thug as he reached to tap Red Hood on the shoulder again.

The instance his finger touched Red Hood's shoulder, Red hood's reflexes kicked in with a vengeance and in a second the thug was missing that hand. He let out a high pitched cry, as if he had just been kicked in the nuts and his buddies went for their guns like the idiots they were. It would be a crime to waste perfectly good bullets on them, but then again bloodying his Kris with their blood seemed like an even bigger crime. He decided to split the two, leaping forward to stab one in the shoulder blade, getting dangerously close to a major organ before whipping out his gun and shooting two other thugs in the lower stomach. Before the last one could react Red Hood had flipped him to the ground with the knife at his throat. Piss filled the air as the punk let himself go and Red Hood sneered in disgust behind the mask.

"Where did he want me to meet him," asked Jason as he held the Kris close to the neck, close enough to draw blood. The punk talks. That was never in question, it's how much he talks and how fast he does it that determines on how many pieces he leaves in, but this one is smarter than the rest. He knows when to talk because he knows that Gigante would not be a man to fear for long.

* * *

><p>Detective Jack Rafferty looked at his watch as he waited for his partner to get back, wondering why it was taking so long for him to get a few slices of pizza. Jack had always been protective of his partner Terry ever since the two were in the academy together, training for the day they actually walked the beat together, though Rafferty was his senior of a year. They were as close as partners could be, each one had complete faith in the other. But still Jack was worried that one of the guys they were staking out might have gotten Terry and they were doing God knows what in there. There were a lot of dark thoughts running through his head as he sat there in the darkness mixed with red lights that bathed the car, bringing with it its own horrors to torment Rafferty. His grip tightened on his gun and the other hand gripped the wheel like a patient grips the handlebar on their beds in the throes of agony. Like a ticking time bomb Rafferty was going to burst.<p>

"Hey Jack, could you open the car," asked his partner, Terry Dodson, a skinny guy with very minimal build and the eyes of a puppy dog. He was the antithesis of his partner, a wolf of a man with a greater physique.

"Jesus, Terry, where the hell were you," asked Rafferty as he unlocked and opened the door for Terry to get in the car. It would be the last time Terry was going anywhere without Rafferty. "Get in before someone sees you!"

"Wouldn't your shouting alert them more," replied Terry as he eased his way in the car, the shaking in his hands. "Besides, this thing is hot, I had to stop every now and then to give my palms sometime to heal. Hope nothing big happened while I was gone."

"No there was just two hookers going in there or I hope they were hookers, but both didn't seem to fight and both were older women trying to look young. I'm guessing the boss is getting a threesome or they're having a gang bang. Probably both in that order. You do realize I'm not going to let you go out alone from now on right rookie."

"Oh you have one year on me that's not even fair," pouted Terry as he hung his tail between his legs with his ears turned down. "I'm not a little kid you dick! I'm your partner not your kid, but you don't even treat me with an ounce of respect. Come on Jack, I'm a big boy now, and I'm a better shot than you are."

"Alright Terry, you're right, I have been treating you like a kid and I shouldn't have treated you as such," replied Rafferty as he opened the box to pull apart a slice of pizza. Terry was the more mature of the two, even though he was also the most sensitive. "I was just worried about you is all."

"I didn't know you had such strong feelings for me," joked Terry as he pulled out his own slice.

"Don't get misty eyed Francine, you had the pizza," replied Rafferty as he continued to eat his own slice with a shrug.

They both nearly choked on their pizza when an explosion happened in the building across the street that they were observing. Gunshots rang out in the night, booming like thunderclaps from hidden lightning. The pizza nearly splattered over the dashboard as the two rushed out from the car and ran towards the building. Terry was smart enough to call in the back-up S.W.A.T. Fire and smoke rose out fo the building like a beacon, forming something in the night sky that looked something like a bat, but Terry thought it was just wishful thinking on his part. Every cop knew that Gotham had another protector, a silent shadow in the night that was the ally that the Gotham City Police Department needed, the one that Gordon had told him he could always count on.

"Freeze, Gotham City Police department," shouted Rafferty as he kicked down the door and whipped out the shotgun that he carried in his car just for emergencies.

"Aw shit we got cops, waste em too," shouted a man, the big fish that they were trying to catch, Ricardo Gigante. "Kill em all!"

"Gigante, you tubby bitch, you should have been smarter than this," said the most infamous vigilante in Gotham, the one who crossed so many lines he couldn't even probably remember what they even looked like, the Red Hood. Terry had never seen the Red Hood up close in his two years of work with the force, soon to be three, but he had seen enough photos and the vigilante had a reputation.

"You think you can take me, I've been running my business long before you ever came to this town," said Gigante as he fired a shotgun at where the vigilante had been, but he soon found himself on his back with a fist in his face.

"Too slow," said the Red Hood, there was a wicked smirk in his voice that almost seemed to bleed through the mask. "As a man you're nothing but a piece of shit. Soon you're going to be a piece of dog shit."

"Hold it right there," said Terry as he pointed his Beretta at the infamous vigilante, his hand calm, cool, like a rock, but inside he's afraid of what that vigilante could do and would do to him.

"Please, don't try it," said the vigilante as he put his left hand up, the Kris in the other. "I don't want to or like hurting cops; especially good ones and you look like typical good cop…mixed with a Labrador. You wanted this bastard off the street. I don't want him to ever get back on them. This is whole interaction right now is us meeting in the middle, getting what we want."

"I know you think what you're doing is right…sometimes this does seem like the only way," replied Terry, his gun still trained the Red Hood and out of the corner of his eye he could see Jack getting in position to take the vigilante down from behind.

"I can here you behind me, detective," said Red Hood, not even bothering to look back at Rafferty as he brought a grenade into his hand. "Please, why don't both of you just go right now. We can take a rain check on this whole arresting me business."

"Yeah so what, you can just go butchering crime bosses," asked Rafferty with his shotgun aimed at the vigilante's back.

"Well seeing as your empty, yes, that's exactly what I'll continue to do," replied Red Hood as he pulled the pin out of the grenade. "What you see is only the dim image in a mirror. When we meet face to face, you'll understand. You lock them up and they break out to kill again, the repetitive motions that can only be described as life support at best. This city is dying from its infections and our mothers are dying in front of their children. Maybe I am crazy, but what can I do, this city perpetuates psychos, churning out criminals, hungrier than the ones before them."

"Is that how you really see the world," asked Terry as he lowered his gun, his tone took a calming aspect to it as he tried to talk the now grenade toting Red Hood down. "You didn't always believe that this was a way, but something happened and now this seems to be the only path you find yourself with."

"Something did happen to me," said Red Hood as he dropped the grenade on the floor, the safety handle popping out. "I came back from the dead and to tell you the truth, I still haven't decided on what I believe in. I just do what my rage tells me to because it's the only way to keep my head clear."

Terry immediately jumped at Red hood to push him away from the blast as Jack went to try and save both men from the blast. There was a loud flash and the sound like thunder ripping through an erupting volcano.

"Sorry about this officer," said Red Hood as he used the disorientation of the two officers to take them both down, leaving only Gigante, who was clutching his ears in pain. The sounds of S.W.A.T. cars mixed with police sirens flooded the air outside, almost like a storm to which the building was shielding its occupants from. He had enough time to kill Gigante, but now…it just seemed unimportant. "You were right though, I was rough, but I never would have killed…I was a part of something that was everything Gotham needed. I had great respect for what the uniform I wore, but it wasn't for me, I couldn't be the one who wore that suit. The more I tried the more I seemed to suffer. Hell, I don't know if this mask is right for me, but I don't know anything else. All I can see is red."

The S.W.A.T. team burst into the building only to find that it was long abandoned, with Gigante handcuffed and two officers sitting next to each other, their slumped over heads identifying them as unconscious. The entire room looked chaotic with men injured with stab wounds, a few were dead with clean headshots right between the eyes or slit throats. The Red Hood had been there, but for some reason he hadn't carried out the final big fat kill. These officers would get the credit, probably well deserved with all the evidence that they had discovered and for doing something that not even Batman had done. Stop Red Hood from killing.

* * *

><p>Criminals are a lot like wild animals, they look for anything that could be conceived as weakness, especially someone as big an opportunist as Penquin. He had already sent in trained assassins to kill him and they had been predictable enough as to set a bomb in the closest safe house. The fact that they had set bombs throughout the entire complex made things interesting. The explosion echoed out into the night, masking the gunfire as Jason fought for his life against the assassins. They were well trained, but they were far from League of Shadow material and Jason had already improved his skills to greater abilities. Ever since he nearly got busted by Dick, Jason went on another trip around the world to improve himself until he nearly killed himself. He was determined not to be the weakest Robin. He was determined not to be that helpless boy who was beaten with a crowbar.<p>

The first one found his arms being pulled behind him until they tore from the sockets. The next one tried to do a high flying kick only to find himself choke-slammed into the ground before elbowed in the face. The third came at Jason with a knife, but Jason was twisted his wrists until the bone tore through skin and then head butted the assailant into unconsciousness. The last tried to run but had both of his knee caps blown apart from the back by a Desert Eagle. Then it happened, a sniper's bullet tore through his left shoulder and he was saved by the last person he wanted to be rescued by, Batman. The only thing more humiliating about the situation was that he passed out before he could get away.


	2. Chapter 2

Prologue part 2

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit fan based fiction. Batman is own by DC.

* * *

><p>When he did wake up he knew that he had to be in the manor, the one place that he didn't want to be save for the Wayne penthouse. The Manor brought too many memories. Painful memories. Sad memories. Happy memories. He hated the happier memories the most because they reminded him of all he had lost, all the things that he had missed from his former and all the things he was never going to get back. There were many reasons to why he couldn't ignore his anger, but Jason thought the biggest reason was that everything wouldn't go back to the way it was and the world had already passed him over. There had been another Robin to take his place, but he knew that even if there wasn't Bruce would never let him back in the uniform. He was a mistake to be displayed in a case in the Batcave, to remind Bruce in the future to stay away from further mistakes.<p>

"I see that you're awake, Master Jason," said a familiar calming British accent and he could feel the warm, caring smile that he couldn't look at. Not after how bloody his hands were. A tray of hot soup was set down with a sandwich right next to it and orange juice right next to it. "I would be very careful with your left arm, I managed to remove the bullet and close the wounds, but I would not like for you to re-open your wounds."

"How long have I been here," asked Jason as he chugged down the orange juice, his throat parched from not having liquid pass through it for some time. Alfred was quick to refill the glass.

"You've been here for four days," said Bruce as he revealed his presence from across the room at the window, he looked tired as hell and there was worry in his eyes. _Oh God,_ thought Jason. _He was crying over me…_ "It was fortunate that your jacket was padded, it took up much of the impact of the bullet, but the bullet fragments tore through the material into the bone. The bullet was made for tearing through a lot of body armor, the extra layer of Kevlar saved your life. Still you had other wounds as well."

"Just scratches and near misses by bullets," replied Jason as he weakly tried to eat the soup with his right hand. Bruce came over and did the most humiliating thing he could do, feed him the soup. "I know I should be able to move more readily than this, why do I feel lighter than air and no pain. I can barely think."

"That would be the pain medication I have you on, plus something to keep you from sneaking out as soon as we leave," replied Bruce with a slight smile. "I know you would and I'm not letting you out until you've sufficiently healed."

"I heal fast," said Jason as he tried reaching for the spoon but accidentally used his left hand which wouldn't properly work for him, but as a bonus it tipped the bowl of soup over on Bruce. Some of it got on his lap, but Jason was so high on whatever the hell they put him on that he didn't feel a thing. "Okay that wasn't intentional, but I'll take it."

"Jason, please, just make this easy," pleaded Bruce, he looked a lot more hurt than Jason had wanted.

"Alright, but as soon as I'm well I'm getting out of here," replied Jason as he allowed Bruce to hold the sandwich up to his mouth to eat. Alfred went to fetch another bowl of soup, something that also made Jason feel bad for what he did. "I don't have to spend quality time with Dick or the Replacement do I?"

"They'll be checking up on you as well," replied Bruce as he placed the sandwich on the table to allow Jason to drink his orange juice. "I want you all to get along."

"If I didn't know any better I would think that you had paid a sniper to shoot me in the shoulder," said Jason as he eyed Bruce. "I'll try not to antagonize those idiots too much, but you cannot ask me to be all brotherly to them…it's complicated."

"Someone has to make the first step, it's as simple as that," stated Bruce in that same parental tone he always took. It was the one thing that Jason was glad hadn't changed, not that he would admit it.

"If you really believe that you don't know a damn thing about what goes on in my head," said Jason as he looked around for his clothes. "Who the hell changed me anyway? I won't like the answer either way, but I hold out to the hope that it was Selina. I'd also take Babs but her girlfriend would get her green scaled panties in a bunch."

"As I recall you seemed to be very enthusiastic about wearing them," said a voice from the doorway. Jason sighed a bit as he knew exactly who it was and he knew that he wouldn't be alone. "And it was actually all three of us who dressed you at one point or another."

"Great because nothing says family time like sub textual incest," said Jason as he groaned in the bed wandering when the hell good karma would kick in. _Please tell me it wasn't used up when I knocked the bowl into Bruce's laugh!_ "Please tell me the Replacement isn't standing out there beside you. I guess I'm glad the Hellspawn isn't here to see this and I'm damn sure glad he wasn't helping with clothing me."

"He tried to kill you in your sleep so he's grounded in his room for the time being," explained Tim who didn't seem too pleased to have Jason lying there in the bed. "Though seeing as how you've been giving us so much trouble I don't much blame him."

"Are you telling me that he's trying to kill me for making you work hard to catch me and you're not trying to kill the Joker who's been a pain in everyone's ass and the fuel to my eternal rage? What kind of retard are you raising Bruce?"

"I believe the correct term to use in this situation is kiss my ass," said a very arrogant voice with noble airs accenting the annoyance in his voice, as if he were annoyed at having to even speak to a peasant. "I don't see why I have to justify my actions to a man who can't seem to get over his inability to save himself or his mother from some psychopath."

"Not as much as you seem to be brooding over failing to kill an unconscious person," taunted Jason, just waiting for Damian to try anything.

"Both of you will stop this at once," declared Batman as he slammed his hand on the drawer in the room. As Jason looked at the desk he saw a picture of Catherine Todd and he realized that this was his old room. Very little had changed and Alfred had kept the entire place tidy. "You all are family here and you should act like family."

"Actually, technically only two are family by law," said Damian only yo be cut short by a look from his father. "Fine, I shall return to my room then."

With that Damian left right before Jason said, "Bruce, from now on you are mandated to use birth control so something like that doesn't come into this world."

"You're one to talk, he's like you now," said Tim, his tone told Jason that one of the birds was definitely not feeling like being brotherly.

"So do you really want more of me, I had no idea you felt so neglected. I promise that as soon as I'm healed I will give you my full attention," taunted Jason only to get a completely different reaction than he had expected. Tim looked like he was thinking. "Don't tell me I got you to come out of the closet."

"No, it's just that I would want to say that I agree with you," said Tim before he turned around and started to walk off saying, "but then I would have to deal with the horseman and the forty years of darkness."

"Look, Jason, I know you dislike use for whatever reasons you have, but we're all here for you," said Dick as he patted him on his good shoulder. "If you ever want to talk about anything going on in your head y-"

"Will talk to you when Hell freezes over," said Jason as he managed to weakly pick up his own glass and take a sip of orange juice. "Now if you don't mind, I've got some internal brooding to do, real brooding, not that pussy stuff you do when it rains and you've had some bad hang up or something."

"You know Jason, you're going to find my patience running thin one of these days and I won't be trying to reach out to you," said Dick before he walked out of the door.

"I can only hope," muttered Jason as he looked down at the partially eaten sandwich and the new bowl of soup that Alfred had left.

"Why do you push them away, Jason," asked Bruce, just as Jason would have expected. "They're only trying to help and they just might be what you need. After all, you don't know what to believe."

"So you were there after all. I guess I should have expected that. As to getting help from either of them…it's not going to happen. Trust me on this Bruce. You have no idea what you're asking of me."

"What am I asking of you exactly?"

"You're asking me to accept help from the man who I always respected and idolized, the standard that I never felt I met, and the one thing that I obsessed over surpassing just to get your approval. I hoped that he would accept me as his successor and so I tried to be just as tough as he was, but that never worked out. The only thing I ever wanted to be was Robin and when I died, I thought that at least I would be the last one and that was a selfish thought, I'll admit it. But God damn it the only person who even thinks to kill that rat bastard is the same person who made me feel awkward every time I put on the uniform. Then, if that wasn't enough, you want me to form a relationship with my replacement, the one who did surpass me, the one who got the life I always wanted. He got the acceptance that I never did and what the hell do I get, a glass case and the distinction of being the greatest mistake you made. Do you know how that feels? Basically, I'm the failure in the line of Robin's and instead of being the wakeup call that would get you to finally kill him so that no one else would suffer, I'm just the Robin no other Robin should be. How the hell could either of those two help me when half of my issues are that I'm not them? Should I take tips on how to be them so you can finally get that second son you always wanted?"

"I don't want you to be Tim or Dick! I want you to be Jason and I think that being a part of this family again will help you remember who you are!"

"I remember better than you think! If anyone is having memory loss it's you! Just in case you forgot, Dick was less than brotherly to me for probably the same reason I'm less than brotherly Tim! Most of your other allies saw me as impulsive, sometimes cocky, and often times more violent than Dick ever was. Hell Superman and Wonder Woman gave me half a chance, which I thank them for and Babs was the only one in this supposed family who made me feel welcome besides Alfred. For a time I played along and pretended to be Dick, just for you. Then you know what I realized? You weren't seeing me; you were seeing Dick, that obedient little child that you used to have around with you all the time. So I became the exact opposite of what Dick was just so that you would see me for me and not Dick, that you would finally recognize me as Jason! Now you tell me you want me to be Jason when for so many years you wanted me to be Dick! Truly, I never wanted to be Robin because I knew I could never be that golden boy wonder that all the kids would hear about tagging along with Batman. Every kid wanted to be Robin and I did want to fight crime by your side, but I wanted to be my own hero, to be true to myself. Deep down, I wanted to someday be you, to be the symbol of hope and fear."

"You're right, I was wrong to make you Robin," said Bruce as he put a hand on Jason's good shoulder. "At the time I first met you I was hurting from Robin leaving and even though I wanted to help you, mentor you to temper your rage, I couldn't help but try to make you into Dick. You weren't Dick and I knew deep down inside that you could never take the mantle of Robin even as I made you Robin, but still you accepted it with childlike excitement, hoping to leave your mark on the title, make it your own. I was hard on you for not being as calm or collected as Dick, but I should have also acknowledged that you were different. If anything, you were more like me when I was growing up with the death of my parents still heavy on my shoulder."

"As much good as that does me," said Jason as he looked down at the empty soup bowl and he couldn't help feeling that he was just like that bowl. Empty, void of the substance that justifies its existence. It was probably brighter in his life than he thought, but right now the world seemed to be pitched in a dark tint. "I'll never be Batman, not with my head the way it is."

"You can get better, there are people who can help you," said Bruce as he picked up the red motorcycle helmet that sat on the chair near the rest of Jason's clothes. "Everyone here wants to see the Red Hood gone and I know, deep down inside, so do you."

"Still not seeing the picture Bruce," said Jason as he lay back down in his bed feeling exhausted both emotionally and physically. "Red Hood is all I got right now and even I don't want to be Red hood anymore. I mean sure it was enjoyable the first few years and I'm getting some retribution for being ignored and shunned, but in the end, I'm not making the big impact on crime that I thought I would have. I've killed lots of them, but someone always seems to take their place and the more territory I try to take control, the more violent I get. I can't keep this crime boss persona up and if I go back to vigilante I'm just going back to killing. Look at me, I'm trying so hard to be you, but at the same time I'm telling myself I'm different because I kill. Who am I kidding? All these years trying to be different and all I can do is chase your ghost like a lost puppy. How do you see me getting better?"

"If you were Batman would you kill," asked Bruce, his face was serious, with a piercing gaze.

"I did think about putting on the cowl and killing, but…that was one line I didn't feel like crossing," replied Jason as he tried to move the tray off the bed, but his left arm wasn't responding well. "Bruce, I'm not worthy enough to be Robin let alone Batman! I tried being Robin and it only brought me suffering!"

"I know and it was my fault for making you be Robin," said Bruce as he put his hands on Jason's shoulder, with the hand on Jason's left shoulder having very little pressure asserted to the shoulder. "The reason that I adopted you wasn't because I thought you'd be part of the problem, but because you reminded me a lot like me before I found my way. You still weren't there, but you were closer than any other Robin before you."

"That would be touching if I wasn't the second Robin," replied Jason as he lay back down feeling tired. "Look Bruce, I could give you fifty different reasons why I shouldn't be Batman and twenty to why I couldn't, but right now I'm tired. I believe my replacement should be the one you look towards, lord knows Dick is too much of a bleeding heart vagina to be Batman. But don't you dare tell the Replacement I said that or I will have to kill him."

"Well you seem tired, I'll let you rest," said Bruce as he set the red biker helmet back on the chair and walked towards the door, turning around only to say, "please think about it. I know you might not think you could take on the mantle, but I think it might be the best thing for you right now."

"You still haven't given up on me have you Bruce," asked Jason with one eye wearily open.

"Never," replied Bruce with a smirk on his face as he walked out of the room to let sleep take Jason.

* * *

><p><strong>After Final Crisis October 12th, 2009<strong>

Almost a year had passed since Jason had been shot in the shoulder. He managed to heal completely in two months and snuck out of the manor when no one had been watching, save for a certain hellspawn(Damian, not an actual hellspawn), but Jason had easily solved that little problem. Of course now that little bastard was acting pissier towards him than the Replacement and Dick got his green scaled panties in a bunch over the unnecessary use of force. How Dick had not strangled the little twerp was a wonder, but then again, Dick was always empathetic as hell. Of course, Dick was also the one person Jason didn't expect to be breaking into his complex, one of the old security buildings for the abandoned Kord Industries building. The place had been deserted on Jason's orders and the industrial facility was moved to Metropolis, taking with it many jobs. The move was meant to give Jason a good base for his arsenal and with all the security implements it made for a perfect fortress. Only Bruce or Dick could get through, but then Jason added additional security measures to make it virtually impossible for one to get through, plus Bruce didn't know that Jason was now in control of Kord Industries. If Bruce found that out Jason would be without fallback income and a major part of his arsenal would be lost.

Dick had gotten far in the complex, a flaw in the security design that would be corrected, but Jason found it was most effective to set the flash grenades along with the emp grenades in one room that would be used for riot vehicles. The assault on both his natural senses and the technological senses caught Dick unprepared, easy picking for Jason. Strangely enough, Dick didn't attack Jason on sight and not because Jason had a shotgun that he had informed Dick was loaded with rock salt shells and aimed directly as his crotch.

"So what brings the golden boy to this abandoned place," asked Jason as he sat down in a rolling chair that he had rolled in on.

"I should ask you the same question, this building's deserted and you never knew Ted Kord," replied Dick, his tone giving off nothing except that damn boyish wit that Jason hated having to emulate as Robin.

"I'll have you know that I Google'd him and I felt he wouldn't mind me crashing here."

"I'm pretty sure he would have a problem with you being here, especially if you're running guns through here."

"Yeah well the opinions of the dead are never taken into account," said Jason as he lit up a cigarette, his fourth of the night. "Trust me, I'm the only expert you're going to find on that."

"How are you an expert on that matter?"

"How many people do you know wake up in their _own_ grave? I believe that gives me some bit of expertise on the matter…besides, no one thought of how I felt about letting the Joker live, but then again that just might be me. No one much listened to me when I was alive."

"Now you're just wallowing in self pity and possibly alcohol."

"Just tell me why Bruce sent you here and then leave. If he wants my help or anything he can give it to me in person."

"Bruce is dead. The funeral will be soon and then we have the will reading. I came by to tell you when it's happening, where and to…ask if you wanted to stay in the Manor until then."

"….you can go now."

"Are you coming," asked Dick as he eyed Jason, trying to look into the blank lenses of the domino mask.

"It's a surprise, now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do," replied Jason as he wheeled himself out of the room and shut the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 1: Dreams and Nightmares can come true

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit fanbased fiction. Batman is owned by DC.

* * *

><p><strong>Gotham City November 2, 2009<strong>

Jason truly felt awkward in the suit that he had bought even though it was a custom tailored suit to match his specifications, including being armed when he needed it. He wasn't sure he wouldn't need some type of weapon. He was walking into the highest concentration of heroes and the Bat Family after all, but at the same time, he was walking into a place that he once considered family. Well the closest thing he had to family at the time, but a lot of things changed and all for the worst as far as Jason was concerned. The only person of that family who still cared about him is dead and has already been laid to rest. Jason told himself he wasn't able to go to the funeral because he was too busy, but that was a lie. He didn't go to the funeral because he didn't want to accept that the only person who he could conceive of being a parent to him was dead.

The point of no return is never what you think it is, it's not that line that you cross when you make the first kill, it's the hole that you fall into and can't get out of. Two Face crossed the line, but he could always come back on that side and he continued to do so. Joker reached the point of no return, there would be no redemption, no salvation, and as much as Bruce might wish it, there would be no rehabilitation. Whatever the Joker had been before was gone and all that was left was chaos and insanity. Though Jason had crossed so far past the line that he couldn't even remember what it looked like when he passed it he had not reached the point of no return. Maybe he would now that Bruce wasn't there to stop him. If he was going to reach that point, and he probably was, it would have to do with the clown, the same monster that pushed him down this path.

It seemed childish to blame all of his problems on another person, after all so many things had put him where he was now, but in the beginning, he was the one who had made the mistake. One simple mistake to look for his mother, after hearing that Bruce was going to take Robin away from him, and he was still paying for it with all those pleasant dreams that turned to nightmares. All those years he had lost rotting in a coffin as the world went on till he became just a memory, forgotten just as easily by everyone. Except the man whose funeral he was going to. It donned on Jason at that moment, just how truly alone he was in the world at that moment. Oh well, didn't make much of a difference, nothing really mattered except Gotham City, **his** city. The cell phone that he knew he should have dumped a week ago rang. Dick.

"Yes Dick," answered Jason, using golden boy's name in a more insulting contextual tone.

"Nice to hear from you as well," said Dick, once again using that annoying optimism that Jason could never really stomach these days, even though he'd kill for that optimism. "How are you holding up since…we last talked?'

"Not much more screwed up or emotionally damaged I could get," replied Jason as he sat back down in his chair, trying to get comfortable in the suit that he had on, the same suit they had buried him in, the only one he had ever bought. It had taken a lot of trouble to get the suit fixed, but he didn't feel right wearing anything else…everything else just felt uncomfortable on his skin. "I'll be there soon, don't worry."

"I'm more worried about you. After all you haven't had the best track record for sanity and I can't even imagine what you must be going through losing Bruce. I know you two didn't have as good a relationship as you two wanted to have before…before Bruce died. I want you to know that if you ever need any help with anything or just want to talk, we're here, the rest of the family and I."

"Are you offering the touchy feely talk because you didn't feel like paying for an open bar or is this more of your feeling crap? Please tell me you at least have food set out and that Alfred is cooking. You and Tim can cook because you both had that special operation to surgically remove your balls, but your cooking has nothing on Alfred."

"God damn it Jason I'm being serious! Do you always have to act like the biggest asshole you can possibly be?"

"Do you always have to act like an insufferable den mother or big brother? Why choose now to act like that, you pretty much blew me off when I was alive, now that I died you pity the shit out of me. Is it guilt or do you like to think that you're a nice person? Or is it because you feel guilty about Bruce's death, about not being there, and so now you're going on a helping binge or something? Anyway we weren't close, you were right, so I'm not exactly feeling as dead inside as you or Tim, especially Tim. I'd try looking in on him, he's got a lot of death in his life already, I'd talk to him."

"How the hell do you sound like an asshole one second than Oprah the next? I guess I'll see you when you get here."

"Alright I'm out," said Jason as he shut the phone close, exiting the call and then threw the phone up before blasting it to little pieces with his gun. He reached into a drawer and pulled out another phone and activated it. "That should get me through the rest of the month."

He didn't wear his helmet when he rode his bike, didn't want to gain any unwanted attention from people who saw the Red Hood dressed up so casually. He also liked the feel of the air speeding through his hair like water as he drove deeper into the sea of Gotham, letting the scent of the city mingle in his nose, and all the sounds passing undisturbed through his ears. It was times like these where he felt alive with his city, like they were beating one heart and one mind. He passed many people on the way, some living in poverty with hope for the future, some who had lost sight of the sun, some who stole the sun from others, and those that looked at the misery of the rest of the city and shrugged. It reminded him why he did what he did, why he needed to keep doing what he did…it was the only choice he had. Becoming Robin of any kind, Red or not would just be a lie, and he didn't want to become Nightwing again. Red Hood was all he had…all he knew how to be.

* * *

><p>Wayne Manor, god how long had it been since he had last stood inside the doorway of this place…almost a year ago and he had not much enjoyed that stay. Dick trying to play nursemaid alongside Alfred, Bruce having heart-to-heart talks that end with words being said and hurt looks, and a hellspawn trying his patience, oh what good times. Made him wonder why he broke out two months later and never came back for a return visit, until now. Alfred was already at the door greeting people, his eyes showing the sadness that he felt for the loss of someone who had come to be a son and an old friend. Had Bruce worn those eyes at his funeral? Jason would never know now at least not for the moment. Alfred's eyes brightened at the sight of him, as if something could be gained from these dark times, days that were like omens in the medieval times.<p>

"I knew you would come, Master Todd," said Alfred, his tone sounding cheerful despite the fact that his face looked so sad.

"I'd like to see anyone stop me from coming," said Jason as he walked into the mansion, marveling at how much it hadn't changed despite the years. "Besides Golden Boy would have thrown a shit fit."

"I'm glad that you put aside your differences for tonight," said Alfred as he pointed towards where Tim Drake was standing, helping various other superheroes with drinks and food. "Perhaps you could lend a hand to young Master Drake over there?"

"I guess," was all Jason said, walking past the uneasy glances that most of the superheroes were giving him, apparently his reputation had gotten out. Barbara Gordon almost looked shocked to see him, as if she expected him not to come or at least come garbed in uniform with a shotgun or flamethrower. Funny thing, Tim looked the same way.

"What are you doing here, Todd," asked Tim, his eyes narrowing in the same manner that Bruce's would, that any of their eyes would probably, the only one who didn't pick up bad habits from Bruce was Golden Boy.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing, I was invited after all," said Jason as he picked up a glass of champagne, chugging half of the glass in one sip. "Alfred said help you so I guess given that this is Bruce's funeral I thought I would oblige him. This is probably a sight Bruce would have appreciated."

"You expect me to just believe that you have purely good intentions," asked Tim, his eyes not changing for a second. Jason thought he was doing somewhat decent impersonation of Bruce, but not good enough to intimidate him.

"You honestly think I would walk into the biggest gathering of superheroes outside of Superman's funeral to do bad things," asked Jason as he finished the rest of the glass before taking a shrimp and dipping it into the cocktail sauce. "Besides, this is Bruce's funeral, no matter what you might think of me even I'm not that far gone to mess with funeral. No matter what, I was his Robin just as much you were his Robin and just as much as Dick was his Robin."

"Yeah but none of us have ever pointed a gun on him and none of us have ever gone as far as you did," said Tim as he drunk one of the random glasses off a tray that Jason knew was alcoholic.

"Really, you all seemed to be close to I guess I was the only one with the balls to do so," said Jason as he took the drink out of Tim's hand and placed it back on the tray. "Last time I checked you're still under age and I doubt Bruce would like you picking up my bad habits."

"I still can't believe you actually walked into the biggest gathering of superheroes without some form of weapon," said Tim before he prepared a plate for someone that Jason hadn't seen in a long time. Roy Harper, the last time he had seen Harper the guy was a junkie. He looked clean now, thankfully, otherwise Jason would be reminded of his good mother. "I'd also mind Damien, the little shit will probably eye you from across the room for the entire night."

"I can deal with the demon child, I'm just trying to get through the night," replied Jason before downing his drink and setting it not to gently on the table. "Now if you'll excuse me I guess I'll be looking around upstairs before I become the life of the party, lord knows it might need one."

"Why are you such an asshole," asked Tim as he glared at Jason who only brushed it off as casually as he did any other attack from the family.

"Because our Bruce was a dick and in the way of dicks he gathered two pussies and an asshole. There are three types of people in this world, dicks, pussies and assholes. You and Dick are both pussies, no matter how much you both want to be dicks. Me, I'm pure asshole and all I do is shit all over everything. That's the real reason Bruce picked us up, he just wanted to fuck you two pussies up so you'd follow him and he wanted to fuck up my life because I so I didn't shit over everything. Trust me, Dick made that all too clear."

"Is everything that comes out of your mouth offensive and disgusting," asked Tim.

"The truth is a steaming pile of shit and everyone else just wants to put up air freshener to cover up the stench," said Jason before he strolled out of the party, passing none other than Superman himself dressed in a black suit for the occasion.

Clark looked like he was about to say something to Jason before Dick patted his shoulder and gave him a look that was begging for the chance to be the one to give Jason the talk. Clark relented and let Dick by so he could catch up to Jason. It was obvious where Jason would go, it was like tracking a bear, it would always go back to its cave and Jason was no different. His room was just as it was when he had last been at the manor except that the bed had been made. Typical Alfred, even down to the photo of him, Bruce, and Alfred that had not a single speck of dust lying on its surface, memories trapped under a glass.

"Let me guess, you want to have the heart to heart," asked Jason as he fingered the cigarette in his pocket. "I don't see why, you just liked to yell at me and try to give me more advice to be like you."

"I know it must be hard losing your last contact to a normal life," said Dick as he walked beside Jason and picked up the photograph. "I wish I could have been in this picture but I guess we hated each other because we feared losing our place in the family. Bruce was the only bit of stability that we had in our lives and now he's gone."

"What the hell about this life is normal," asked Jason as he smacked the picture out of Dick's hand. The frame broke on the edge of the dresser, glass scattering on the floor alongside the wood of the frame. "A normal life for a person like me was either being a drug dealer, a priest, or a cop. I'd have probably run with anyone in Bruce's ice cream social, hell maybe even the god damn clown himself would have taken a special place in his heart for me. I don't have a normal life, this city doesn't give us normal lives and the only connection you have with it is that your family happened to be touring in this town when they died. Hell Tim would be in some private school. This was the best possible option I'd ever have in my life and I haven't had this in so long.

"Bruce is dead and I'm alive and nothing has changed since the time I died except this time I get to see him lowered into the ground. Do you think the man who spent the last couple of months either ignoring me or see that I get sent to Arkham is really going to make me cry? The worst part is that it does because he put the idea that dreams come true in my head and now I'm here painting a target on the back of my damn head in front of every superhero in the world save for those who he pissed off so much they are probably only having a touching moment of silence in his honor. I'm not here to bury Bruce, I'm here because he would have wanted me to be here and right now I'm realizing how fucking pathetic that sounds."

"You aren't that stupid," said Dick as he fished the picture out of the broken glass. "You just deny your emotions because you think it makes you look to vulnerable to command the fear and respect that you want to. I think Bruce would be more than proud of you."

There was a silent moment as the expression on Jason's face grew from one of puzzlement to one of anger and the words stumbled out of his mouth as he started to shake in anger. Red crept into his face and his vision. His fist raised like a cobra ready to strike and when it did it made a loud smacking sound that was accented by a sharp thud mixed with a crack. Dick felt the ground meet his back before his head crashed down on the wall, pain stinging in his jaw.

"You really are a dick, Jason," said Dick as he rubbed his busted jaw.

"Go fuck yourself, Grayson," said Jason as he stormed out muttering under his breath, "I'm not a dick…I'm asshole. Bruce was a dick and he's dead."

* * *

><p>It was some time later in the evening, after everyone had said everything that was to be said there was a general silence for the loss of a caped crusader, a member of the trinity and the other half of the world's finest. Everyone started to leave slowly until there were just the orphaned sons left waiting for the last guest to leave. Once Clark had left, Alfred led everyone into the batcave for the last will and testament of Batman. Each one was set up individually, waiting for their turn to go and hear whatever last words Bruce had left them. First up was the eldest, Dick, who looked unsure about going into the room, as if he were walking to his own wake, but he could delay no longer. Inside there was a holographic image of Bruce's head displayed in midair over a console with a bright green play button underneath next to a blue pause button and a red stop button. Wanting to get it over with, Dick pushed the play button.<p>

"Dick, you are my eldest son, the first one to ever follow in my path," said Bruce or the image of Bruce. It was hard to see his mentor's face there after seeing his casket lowered into the ground. "I watched you grow into the man you are today and even when you wanted to become your own man I was still proud of you, I want you to know that. You have become a fine detective, maybe even better than me in some ways, and you are more than worthy of following in my place. Saying this I always to take my place as Batman for a long time, probably all those years ago when I first let you in as my sidekick, but over time I started to see that though you did look up to me, you wouldn't become me.

"I fought it anyway I could and that led to us nearly splitting apart, but I do understand that you aspire to more than Batman, you aspire to being your own person. I have decided not to pass on this mantle to you, but to another who will bear this cross and one who desperately needs to find himself. I think by now you already know who I'm talking about."

"No, you can't possibly be thinking that," said Dick as he felt both relief and something sinking deep into his gut.

"I have decided, that the one who will follow in my path will be Jason Todd," declared Bruce with as much clarity and resolution as the day he swore he would fight crime. "I've neglected him for years, but he still wishes to do good, he just needs something to show him the way. He needs to be Batman because he needs to take on the one mantle that even he would never wish to see tarnish, the one thing that he could never fully betray. He will accept and I'll need you there to help guide him so that he becomes the Batman we wish him to be and not the Joker he fights to become."

"Bruce, if you think this is a good idea than you're crazy!"

"You're the one arguing with me Dick when I'm just now a floating head," said Bruce with a genuine smile that had something else to it. Sadness and regret. "I wish I didn't have to unload this on all of you, I've never been that good of a father, but I hope that this decision will be the right way for all my sons to come together. Maybe something better will come out of my passing."

"You're a real asshole, Bruce," said Dick before he stood up. He turned to leave, but looked back at the recording. "But I will respect your wishes, no matter how stupid they sound."

"I know Dick, I was always sure you'd accept this better than anyone else," said Bruce in the same arrogant manner that didn't accept a negative response. "Please send Jason in, it's time I told him what I plan to give to him."

* * *

><p>Tune in for Jason's reaction to the news as well as everyone else. And it's been too long since Batman went out, are the villains of Gotham smelling blood in the water?<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 2: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning**

Disclaimer: If I owned Batman would I be wasting it writing instead of publishing comics. I digress though.

* * *

><p>Jack Rafferty looked took a sip at his coffee only to remember he put a cigarette out in it two minutes ago and ten minutes before that. Terry didn't point out the fact that this was one point towards the quit smoking argument but he did have a smug grin on his face that Jack decided to end by flicking a rubber band at Terry's head. A minute later when Detective Harvey bullock entered the scene he was nearly hit in the head by a stray rubber band. To say the least he was not looking pleased as he peered over the smoke of his cigar at the two young detectives who were crouched behind their desks with rubber bands in their hands. Bullock could tell by the way that Rafferty looked at the door and then the window that he was trying to figure out a good way to exit while Terry was trying his hardest to will himself invisible.<p>

"If you two are done having a marriage dispute there is a case that the Commissioner wants you to look at," said Bullock as he took a long drag on his cigar and let the air nestle out into the room before turning around and leaving. "God damn kids."

After an awkward and silent gear checking and coat fetching the two drove out of the precinct with their sirens on towards the worst parts of Gotham which was pretty much like saying they drove to the worst parts of Hell. The sunlight had gone letting in the darkness; the roaches were crawling out of their holes finding relief from the absence of the Bat. Things were getting a bit unsettling for the GCPD, especially since the criminals were getting bolder in the absence of Batman despite Superman flying in and dealing with things when they got worse. Unfortunately, Superman had his own city to guard and the brief light that he could shed on this city left only a wound in the darkness that was easily healed. Then there was Arkham after it had gotten destroyed and still being rebuilt, this time with different technology so there was a different reason why the filth would escape.

"Just take a right here and then make a left," said Rafferty, letting his partner drive and get comfortable with the city. Terry wasn't a native of Gotham, he was from Coast City where the Green Lantern reigned. Jack Rafferty, however, had grown up in this city, for whatever that was worth. Like every other idiot idealist he grew up wanting to help fix the city and like every other idealist he was regretting that decision. "Okay we're getting close, it's gonna be on the right."

"Jack, the car has GPS," said Terry as he brushed off Jack's insistence to giving him directions which always meant driving through alleys not meant to be driven through.

"Don't rely on the machines cause they're just gonna fail and once that happens its all about knowing how to survive," said Jack.

"Wow, you've watched Deliverance too many times. I'm going to have to revoke your right to watch see that film."

"We just passed it," said Jack before he was jolted forward by the sudden stopping of the car. "What the hell, Terry."

"We're walking from here, you'll need the exercise, , you're starting to show some flab," said Terry as he got out of the car.

"Oh come on I have not been letting myself go," argued Jack as he tried not to poke his stomach to check for flab. He didn't want to admit that he had a nagging feeling that the stress of work had forced into unhealthy eating habits and smoking habits.

"Don't tell me you two decided to take the scenic route," said Sgt. Black, one of the older officers who was probably the old teacher for every rookie on the street beats. He was one of the very few remaining original guard for Gotham, most having died or retired in defeat from the city. "Don't tell me you two have been bickering again, you know the marriage counselor said you two need to find a more agreeable resolution."

"Speaking of marriages, how is your mother-in-law doing," asked Jack as he lit up another cigarette, letting the match he lit up fall into a puddle of water.

"If you two are done exchanging sweet nothings we're here for a reason," said Terry as he became all business and started checking over the murder scene. Three corpses, each one covered in blood, guts, and coffee. Three cups were sprawled on the ground near it, though one rolled farther back. "These men were gunned down on either a coffee break or just at a meeting. Was anything taken or was this a drive-by?"

"Drive-by, witnesses say that no one got out of the car," said the patrol man as he moved out of the way for the ME. "The three men are on security detail at the Iceberg Lounge s there might be an attack on it. We got men on standby and a SWAT team ready to go if anything gets hot. It's been too many night without the Bat, all hell is about to break loose and it's gonna start with one bullet in the right place."

"These men were gunned down with a weapon that could spray, so submachine gun," said Terry as he looked at the bodies and then turned on his flashlight to shine in the places the street lights couldn't get. The wall was riddle bullet holes like it would be from submachine gun fire but this one was very much more precise than regular drive-bys and the motion didn't seem like modern submachine gun tactics. "Bullet holes look like they came from the bootlegging days, the row pattern hints that it was a full sweep instead of just a general spray. My best guess now would probably be a Thompson submachine gun though that would seem odd given how old the model is. I've never known criminals in this city to be nostalgic. At the same time though, criminals in this town are known to be eccentric. Could be something else but right now I think we should have some units giving the news to Cobblepot."

"There was someone standing here, possibly the shooter," said Jack as he kneeled to push the hand open to reveal a slip of paper that depicted Janus, the two faced Roman god. There was a slight in-take of breath as Jack got back on his feet. "I guess Two-Face has decided that it's open season on birds."

"Sharks are gone, that's why," said the patrol man whose tag revealed him as Michaels. "You know seals migrate through water swimming with sharks so they can eat the penguins. The sharks are gone and now the seals can eat to their hearts content without having to worry about being eaten."

"Yeah well seals don't get innocent people killed in the crossfire and we're still supposed to keep order in this city, sharks or no sharks," snapped Jack. "Just because Batman's not showing up doesn't mean we don't go on business as usual. And you're gonna stop watching the Animal Planet or giving these useful tips."

"No one is suggesting otherwise, it's just that the Bat did help this city out" said Sgt. Black.

"Yeah does Gotham look any better," said Jack as he picked up the gun in his hand. "I'm not going to argue whether or not Gotham's any better, but I'm stating facts and number one fact is that Batman isn't coming."

"Yeah well I hope you're wrong because if you aren't, this night is going to get longer for all of us," said Sgt. Black as he looked up in the sky towards the illuminated silhouette of a bat.

* * *

><p>Jason didn't like the look Dick had given him on his way out of the room. There was an image of Bruce's head floating over a console with a flashing blue light. There was bit of irritation on Jason's part as he felt like some type of animal in a lab experiment, told where to sit and what button to press to see if he could comprehend it. This was definitely one of Bruce's habits that he wouldn't be thinking about later when he thought of his…late mentor. Maybe he would remember it the same way he could still remember the way heroin would smell when it was being prepared or the way his mother's voice would change when the drugs were taking effect.<p>

"Odd production to tell me you left me nothing, except my own room at Arkham," said Jason as he sat down cautiously in the chair, expecting nerve gas to paralyze him while "Goldie" dragged his spazzing ass to Arkham. When Bruce got a notion into his head he never let it go. Deciding it was better to put just a little bit of trust in Bruce again, Jason pushed the button.

"Jason…I'm glad that you came here on your own free will and I'm sorry that my only summons to you would be my last," said Bruce, his eyes looking more below the area of Jason's eyes, as if even Bruce's recording couldn't bear to look at him. "There are many regrets that I have and as you might have guest, a lot of them involve you and our relationship. I want to try to say this right because I know things are tense between the two of us, despite everything that I have ever wanted. I want you to know that I consider all of the Robins my sons, even you, and I don't regret ever taking you in. What I do regret is how I treated you, I treated you like a replacement for Dick, someone to fill in for him and I know it did damage later on when you wanted me to acknowledge you for you. I think everyone gave you that problem, but I should have done better. I also regret making you Robin. A few months after your death, I thought that maybe you hadn't been ready for the burden of carrying on the mantle of Robin.

I realize now that I was wrong to force you to be Robin and that my mistake was training you to be Robin and not training you to be my replacement. At the time I suppose I never really thought that crime would last after my death or never thought about anything other than the mission. Well, I did think about Dick and that also clouded my judgment. You've already trained yourself to be my replacement and you have the drive to make yourself better, but right now you need a symbol to rally behind. I know you hate inheriting mantles, but Jason, please, accept my mantle. I'm not shutting you out anymore, as of now all funds that were designated for Batman are now at your disposal, the ultimate beneficiary of my company will be Tim, but you will be in control of all this. I know it's the biggest risk, but for once I'm taking Clark's advice. I want my son back, I want you back Jason."

Jason didn't know whether the tears that he saw were his own or Bruce's or both, they all just seemed to blend together as it all hit him. Bruce was gone, his father was gone and with those words, Jason finally felt the loss of the opportunity that he had been reluctant to accept. He felt the loss of the bond he could have renewed and it felt like the same pain he had felt when he truly came back to life, when the lights flickered back in his skull and he remembered what it was like to never get the opportunity to see Bruce again. It all came back and the inner demons were more than happy to accompany him for the ride and if that deep hole that was opening back up in his chest was any indication it was going to be a hell of a ride. There was always that hollowness that he felt inside him, it started forming even before he died, and the little cracks from not living up to expectations of his surrogate father and the loss of that bond shattered it like a hammer through a window.

Jason started to breathe heavy as if to vent out the feelings so as not to let those little thoughts creep into their head. He'd kept them at bay most of the time, only letting them out when they gave him an edge, but now he had nothing to grasp on. There was a hole tearing itself inside of him, a black hole that had swallowed him up when he died and now it was back with the same cold empty feeling. The genius of the hole is that no matter how far you crawl back you can always fall back in. There is a noise coming out of the hole that roars like the sound of an ominous behemoth that would crush everything in its path, destroying the city and all of the memories with it. It takes a moment before he realizes that it's really the sound of a lost, pathetic child crying for whatever father figure or motherly presence that he could have had in his life. He's angered by himself for acting like such a pussy, after all of it he's still no better than the little shit who couldn't save himself.

"Only you would wait till your dead to have this heart-to-heart," said Jason giving a slight chuckle as he sat down and took out a cigarette. "Only you would make me feel like an orphan again."

"I realize that this must be a lot to ask of you after the distance we've kept between each other," said the recording of Bruce, a ghost like capture of fatherly sentiments made grim by the recent departure of the sender, made tragic by the loss of further fatherly sentiments. "To be honest I couldn't think of anything better to leave you or any other way to make sure that I'd at least do something to atone for my sins. A hope for a better tomorrow doesn't come from those who are carrying the torch now, but those who will pick up that torch tomorrow and those in the darkness who will decide to come out into the light. This is something that Clark once told me and only now as I record this will, knowing full well that this will either end in my demise or this will never be heard and this sentiment can be inferred face-to-face so that you can see this sincerity to my offer. There is a dividing line, Jason, you must choose which path you'll take for the rest of your life. I'll give you time to think it over, but know that you're acceptance or refusal shall decide who will take the Night of Gotham."

The console powered down as a circle lit up in blue with red text flashing Tim's name. Apparently his session was over and he was being let out to look over the offer, see if he was interested and take a breather from shocking revelations. He'd like to punch Bruce so hard in the kidneys he pissed blood and then he would probably hug him. The noise he made earlier must have been loud enough to breach the metal because as soon as he steps out of the private area there's Dick giving him that "I'm about to be a big brother to you" look. They could have ended with Dick kicking him off a twenty story building or with Jason leaving Dick for dead and Dick would still jump on these "big brother" moments.

"Did he tell you he left me the mantle." asked Jason as he fished the pack of cigarettes that he'd been keeping in his pocket, only to find them missing, replaced by nicotine gum. Alfred. "Damn, maybe Bruce should have left him the cowl. So I assume you're here to try to talk me into something just don't know if you're trying to make me not accept or accept it."

"Regardless of what you think I do care about your safety," asked Dick as he looked at Jason hard, not hard in the way one does when they wish to interrogate, hard like they're trying to look for cracks in you. Everyone treated Jason like he was fine China that was fragile as all hell and tended to always be wary of any racks they might cause, all except the demon child. He'd like the demon child if there wasn't the conflicting urge to shank him and leave him in the hospital. He'd only put him in the hospital, contrary to popular belief he doesn't kill kids. "He told me he was finally going to take responsibility for you, that he was finally going to do the right thing. I'll admit we've never gotten along and that for the longest time I've always regretted not looking out for you. In a way I understand perfectly Bruce's logic in giving you the title. I'll tell you right now that I'll honor Bruce's final wishes, to full of them."

"I figured he'd probably put you as my moral support and I guess the stop plug on this experiment if it get's out of hand.," said Jason as he tried to walk past Dick but he was stopped by a hand in the center of his chest.

"He meant every word of what he said, he asked me to look out for you and to make sure you didn't fall into darkness again," said Dick, turning his head to look Jason in the eye to express sincerity and determination, things that Dick had in spades. "If things go too far I will take control, but I'll still trust your judgement because that's what Bruce would want and that's what I want. I'm hoping you're taking Bruce up on his offer because I'm hoping to also get a second chance at being your brother."

"Oh there is no way in hell I'm passing this up ," said Jason. "For all of my life I wanted some sign that I mattered to him and now he's intrusted me with his legacy. The only thing I'm worried about is how all of you would handle it, but I guess I at least have you on my side to convince the other two."

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop because he knew that once it was out he would have little room to maneuver and he wasn't sure how either of the robins would handle it. The only thing he knew was that he wasn't letting this offer slip through his hands, he was going to be Batman because deep down he wanted to at least make Bruce proud. Besides, the chance to finally bask in the light of the father, what son could pass that up. This would be the beginning of the rest of his life.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Okay this took long to get out just because of everything going on especially in all the other fics I've got active here. I'll be starting immediately on it's follow up so you don't have to wait for eternity, the few who are reading this. Anyway Please Read and Review.<p> 


End file.
